He's a veteran columnist who knows his way around politics, scams, and condo developments. He seems as comfortable writing in his deft and creative way about the rich and famous as he does about the hoi polloi. But he's not just a reporter; he's a newspaper Renaissance man. In addition to his column, he has published installments of his never-ending, lightweight novel Shady Palms in the paper. And, as if fiction weren't enough, Cerabino occasionally writes his column in poetic verse, as he did during the Bush-Gore election fiasco. If every big local daily around here had a columnist like Cerabino, our breakfast reading might no longer threaten to put us back to sleep.